


Mending

by Teneniel



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Car Accidents, Fake Marriage, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 04:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18087641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teneniel/pseuds/Teneniel
Summary: Sometimes, love is fiery hot, and borne of passion.Sometimes, it's a choice made every day.Ignis lies injured on an emergency room gurney, and Prompto sticks around, and sticks around, and sticks around...





	Mending

**Author's Note:**

> Modern-ish AU in which there is no magic or prophecy, but the people, places, and roles are the same.

Ignis was staring at a white ceiling. There were fluorescent lights on, the tiles regular and clean. He flicked his eyes left and right, noted the monitors, the hard surface on which he lay, the inability to move his head. There was a soft  _ pat pat pat _ of shoes on linoleum and an unfamiliar woman appeared above him, peering down.

“How’s the leg?” she asked in a slight drawl.

He shifted his attention downward, to where his leg ached and yet felt numb at the same time. There was  pressure against his buttocks and groin, and everything felt constricted. It was clear he was in a hospital, yet he had no recollection of how he’d got there.

“Was I in an accident?” he spoke. His words were slightly muffled by the plastic collar he wore around his neck, which constricted his jaw movement.

The woman nodded and pressed a button on a machine near his head. A blood pressure cuff began inflating on one of his arms. “You were in a car accident,” she said in a distracted and fake-caring voice that told Ignis this wasn’t the first time he’d asked.

If he remembered his first aid training properly, that wasn’t stellar news for his head. “I see. I’m repetitive questioning, aren’t I?”

She smiled at that and looked down at him again. “You are, but that’s normal. You’re pretty beat up, got a long road ahead of you, but you’re gonna recover. You’re a lucky guy. We saw the pictures.”

So, he probably had a concussion, a broken leg. What else? He noted a dull ache in one side of his chest, and a bubbling sound. It was difficult to take a full breath, but that could have been the straps across his chest. “My lungs?”

“One of them collapsed. You have a few broken ribs and some blood in there, but that’ll heal up pretty quick. We didn’t see any spinal issues but the doc wants you to stay strapped down until you’re examined by the trauma specialist.” Her tone was definitely bored and rote, as if she didn’t expect him to be listening.

Or as if she knew she’d have to explain it again. “How many times have I asked all this?” he asked.

She smiled again. “Lots. I’m gonna go get you another bag and some more morphine, okay? Oh, and your husband is just fine; he walked away from the accident. Just went to go get some coffee and make a phone call.”

She walked out the door before Ignis’ brain had caught up to what she’d said and he asked, “My  _ what??” _

_ - _

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Prompto flushed and looked away. “They weren't going to let me visit you and I kinda panicked and said we were married.”

He stood above the hospital bed with a styrofoam cup of coffee in hand. Ignis was still strapped down, but had thus far managed to keep his memories of the last several minutes intact. “And they didn’t question it?”

“Nope. But I swapped my ring to my left hand and told them they had to cut yours off. I tend to rant when I’m lying but they weren’t really listening anyway.”

“A lie is more convincing the simpler it is.”

“Yeah, tell that to Anxiety Prompto.”

Ignis chuckled, then winced at the sharp pain in his ribs. “Well, I suppose I can help you save face.” Maybe it was the new dose of pain medications, but Ignis was feeling magnanimous. “And the car?”

“Oh it’s gone dude. Practically cut in half.”

Ignis sighed. “I see. I imagine I’ve already asked what happened?”

“Oh yeah like a million times but it’s okay. Doc says that’s normal for concussions and trauma and stuff.” Prompto cleared his throat and sat down in a chair at the head of the bed,leaning forward to rest his arms on the bedrail. “Basically, we were headed up the pass towards the campground and a big ol’ truck came barreling down a logging road and its brakes failed. Tooootally not your fault. It plowed right into your side of the car, just behind your seat. The whole side caved in and you ended up almost in my lap. The car is...well hang on I have pics.”

Prompto reached into his bag and pulled out his camera, turned it on, and flipped through a few pictures. “Like, if it had been even inches closer to the front it would have been like, a lot worse. For you. Maybe both of us. Here,” he said, turning the camera towards Ignis. “I’d, uh, only look at these four, okay? You probably don’t wanna see what you looked like when they loaded you up.”

Ignis brought his hands up to grasp the camera, but they felt leaden and shaky all at once. Prompto helped support it and Ignis peered at the viewscreen. His eyes widened at the first picture. His car was bent ninety degrees around the front corner of a semi truck, the driver’s side nearly nonexistent. The top was peeled back like a sardine can. 

“They had to take you out through the roof. I climbed out through the passenger window. Thankfully the truck driver had a radio because my phone is MIA.”

Something heavy and sickening settled in Ignis’ stomach as he scanned through the pictures Prompto had taken. Some part of him was thankful he’d done so for insurance purposes, but it was definitely an unsettling sight. He reached for the little arrow to flip to the next picture but Prompto pulled the camera away.

“I dunno Igs, I took pics for documentation but I’m not so sure you want to see the next few. You…” Prompto paused, his voice tightening up, and cleared his throat again. “You were pretty banged up man. I wasn’t sure you’d even make it to the ambulance.”

Ignis’ chest constricted even more at Prompto’s tone, the first sense of reality finally settling after nothing but a vague fog. “I understand. Thank you, Prompto.”

-

“We’re going to transfer you to the trauma center in Insomnia,” the doctor spoke. “You can go by ambulance or helicopter, and you’ll have to stay on the backboard for now. They’re picky about how people come packaged up. The quickest and most comfortable way would probably be by helicopter, but it’s also quite a bit more expensive.”

“That’s not a problem. I assume Prompto can come as well?” Ignis asked.

“The helicopter doesn’t have room for riders, unfortunately. The ambulance does, of course. But it will take several hours instead of forty-five minutes. And it’s a bumpy ride.”

Prompto popped into his vision above him, stale hospital coffee on his breath. “Take the helicopter, Iggy. I’ll find a ride.”

Ah, yes. With no car, they were effectively stranded here until a ride from the city could be ordered. “I’ll take the ambulance, please,” Ignis said with what he hoped was finality in his voice.

“Of course, I understand,” the doctor replied, then reached his hand out to shake Ignis’, and then Prompto’s. “It’s been my privilege to treat you. I wish you well, Misters Scientia.” He smiled kindly at both of them and then walked out, Ignis choking down a giggle as Prompto’s smile froze on his face. 

Morphine really was a hell of a drug.

-

_ We’ll give you a bolus of a pain cocktail, _ they said.  _ Dilaudid is the good stuff. You’ll sleep through the whole ride, _ they said. 

They were full of shit.

The second the crew lifted his backboard onto their stretcher, Ignis suddenly felt every injury  _ quite _ keenly. Every bump was agony. The worst of it was from his chest, which caused him to tense up, making everything exponentially worse. He knew he was clenching his teeth, that he was making involuntary grunting and hissing noises, that he was patently ignoring the nurse who cared for him during the ride.

“How much longer?” he asked, hearing the strain in his own voice. 

“Quite a ways yet. We’ve only been on the road for twenty minutes,” the nurse replied. He appeared in Ignis’ vision, swaying effortlessly with every bump and turn. “You’re maxed out on pain meds. Try to relax your core muscles. The ribs are gonna feel worse if you flex them. Do you want another blanket?”

_ No  _ he bloody well didn’t want another blanket, he wanted bloody relief! Ignis opened his mouth to tell the nurse exactly where he thought that blanket ought to go when they hit a jarring bump and Ignis let out a pained near-scream, squeezing his eyes shut and tensing his entire body against the restraint of the backboard. He faintly heard a “sorry!” from the cab, but then a warm hand found his and he opened his eyes. Prompto was now looking down at him, worry all over his face.

“Hey Iggy, he said I could sit here with you. We only have a few more miles of this road and then we’ll be on the highway, okay?”

Ignis couldn’t say why, but all the fentanyl in the world couldn’t have comforted him more than that simple statement. Perhaps it was just  _ knowing. _ He tried to nod but forgot about the blasted cervical collar. Instead he closed his eyes, more gently this time, and whispered, “Thank you.”

-

“...second CT is usually at six hours but he was in transport at the time so we’re going to do that now, then our own X-Rays and there’s an MRI scheduled first thing in the morning. Barring any spinal fractures or other emergencies we find, he’ll have his femur repair tomorrow afternoon. After that he’ll be in critical care for another day or so then move to what we call Progressive Care until he’s off close monitoring. From there he’ll either be discharged or move to a Med/Surg floor until he’s good to go home.”

It took a moment to focus his eyes, but Ignis found the source of the voices, just barely in visual range off to the side of his bed. A heavy fog enveloped his mind, but he remembered the miserable ride here, if not the intake process.

“But once he’s home he’ll still need quite a bit of help, and he’ll have lots of physical therapy and follow up appointments.”

Ignis struggled to maintain focus on Prompto’s face. His blond hair was limp, eyes rimmed brightly in pink, but he nodded along to what the woman was saying. Vaguely, Ignis wondered how long it had been since the accident, and whether Prompto had slept for any of it.

The fatigue was even more apparent when he finally spoke, voice rough and cracking. “He hates the collar thingy. How long does he have to have that on?”

_ Bless him, _ Ignis thought. He’d no recollection of saying as much but this infernal collar was currently in his top ten life annoyances. Along with being broken head to toe and dealing with a petulant prince on a daily basis.

He cleared his throat to ask for a drink of water and both faces looked over at him and smiled. The woman introduced herself as doctor something or other, he couldn’t hold onto her name. But he knew she was speaking too loud and too slowly, as if he was a child.

He forgot what he’d meant to ask.

-

“Why do they keep talking to  _ you  _ when  _ I,  _ a grown man, am right here?” Ignis asked irritably.

“Because you’re blitzed out of your mind on pain meds, and they think I’m your doting husband,” Prompto answered absentmindedly. “No way, that’s gotta be way overbid,”  he said next, this time speaking to the television, which was playing a game show older than both of them combined that Prompto has been far too excited to find.

At least he was able to move his head now, and his back rested on a marginally more comfortable hospital bed. His mobility was still restricted by countless tubes, wires, and of course the traction splint holding his shattered femur in place, but it was leagues better than being full body splinted.

Ignis looked over at the young man contorted on the chair next to his bed, really seeing his face for the first time since this whole nightmare began. There were small cuts at his temple and across his nose, and an angry red rug burn on his right cheek. His eyes looked downright purple now in their fatigue, and they were tensed as if…

“Prompto, are you in pain?” asked Ignis.

Prompto started and met Ignis’ scrutinizing gaze, then shrugged stiffly. “A little sore, probably just from being wrenched around. Your fancy side airbags saved me from getting my bell rung too bad.”

A wave of guilt flooded over Ignis, and to his horror, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say anything comforting, to apologize, but Prompto beat him to it.

“It’s okay Iggy! Really! You worry about you, okay? You’re the one in the ICU.”

“Have you slept? How long has it been anyway?”

“Just about twenty-four hours now? Yeah. It was just before noon when it happened. But it’s been all different specialists and imaging appointments. This is actually like the longest you’ve been left alone.”

Ignis was about to point out that he wasn’t alone, a fact for which he was very grateful, when his daytime nurse walked in as if on cue. She was very young and quite pretty, and Ignis remembered bracing for Prompto to trip over himself trying to impress her. He only now realized that he’d seen no evidence of that.

_ Of course. He’s still feigning marriage,  _ he remembered. Ignis wondered how long Prompto would keep up the charade. Surely he wasn’t going to stay the entire time Ignis was hospitalized? But that thought sent a spike of anxiety through him and he looked to his nurse, who was fiddling with one of his IV pumps. “I wonder, couldn’t we get something for my husband to eat?” he asked. “And is there somewhere he might lie down? After all, he was in the same car.”

“Oh gosh, of course!” she said in a sweet high-pitched voice. Then, to Prompto, “You poor thing, you must be so tired! The window seat converts to a bed. I’ll grab you some linens and order you a lunch. Transport is coming to bring him to surgery in the next fifteen minutes so you won’t have to eat in front of him while he’s NPO. The curtains should block out most of the light when they’re shut and you’ll have a few hours to sleep.”

Ignis turned in time to see Prompto flail for something to say before mumbling a sincere thank you to both of them. There was something immensely satisfying in that.

-

They’d talked about PCU as if it would be an upgrade, but the room was smaller, and the hallway noisier. Noctis and Gladio had already come and gone, leaving behind flowers and cards for Ignis, and a new phone and overnight bag for Prompto.

They’d all had a good laugh at their ridiculous situation. Even Ignis had to admit that it got funnier the longer it went on. Noctis had joked about putting Prompto on official spousal care leave, but something in his tone suggested that Prompto wouldn’t want for a paycheck if he chose to stay with Ignis rather than go back to his patrol shifts.

It was only mid-morning, but the day seemed to drag on. Ignis had been moved first thing, and managed to ditch the catheter and obtain a fragile promise of the chest tube to follow the next day. As it were, his bladder was insisting on attention, so he pressed his call button.

Prompto looked over at him. “Whatcha need?”

Ignis hesitated, a sudden self consciousness took him. “Washroom,” he said, as his nurse walked in, looking harried. 

He must have overheard. “Number one or number two?” the nurse asked, opening a cupboard across from his bed.

Ignis scoffed. He was feeling bad enough without the infantilizing language. “One,” he said, barely keeping the irritation out of his voice.

The nurse handed him a horrendous looking white plastic urinal, then looked at Prompto. “You can just dump it in the bathroom there and reuse it. There’s a cap here and it hangs on the bedrail.”

Ignis blanched and snapped his head to Prompto, who simply nodded and said, “Got it.”

When the nurse left, Ignis sat frozen, the cursed contraption in his hand. Prompto stood up. “I’ll pull the curtain and give you some space, yeah?”

“You don’t really mean to empty my...waste?” Ignis asked incredulously.

But Prompto merely shrugged. “I’ve spent three days sitting next to a bag of it. Plus we’ve camped and shared porta-potties and trees.”

“Not at the same time,” he argued weakly. Ignis was at a loss to explain why this felt different. He picked at the blanket, working out why he felt so embarrassed.

“Sooooo...is this a bad time to tell you that they mentioned you could have a shower now that you’re out of traction, and they wanted to show me how to help?”

His eyes went wide and he looked back to Prompto, who stood there with what Gladio would call a “shit-eating grin” on his face, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Marriage is so glamorous,” Prompto said.

Ignis sighed and dropped his head back to rest on the pillows. “Oh get out and let me pee.”

Prompto snapped the curtain shut, giggling.

-

As it turned out, plastic containers of urine were the least of the humiliations that hospital life had in store. The staff taught the two of them how to move Ignis from the bed to a wheelchair, and from a wheelchair to the toilet and back again. Then there was the roll-in shower, which was cold and disappointing and utterly horrible in every way. By the end of the week, Ignis had let the last remaining thread of his dignity snap without a fight.

Prompto, for his part, was a saint. He’d hardly left Ignis’ side, even during his foulest moods, which usually occurred during physical therapy. Ignis was shocked to find that they wanted him to practice walking with a brace just two days after his surgery. He was even more shocked that the worst pain didn’t come from his leg, but from his blasted  _ ribs.  _

Every bump, twist, and flex resulted in pain ranging from a sharp ache to utter agony. The wound where the chest tube had been was tender as well, exacerbating the pain from the broken ribs. At the same time, they were weaning him down from intravenous pain management and onto oral medications, which always managed to wear off two hours before he was allowed his next dose.

Through all the misery, all the shame, Prompto stood beside him. Sometimes with a quip or a joke, sometimes an encouraging word. Occasionally he’d hold his hand or rub soothing circles onto Ignis’ back, and rarely, he’d offer a firm choice word to stop Ignis in his tracks.

Every day, Ignis wondered  _ why,  _ why was Prompto still there? Every day he meant to ask, meant to tell Prompto that it was okay to go home. But every day Ignis, coward that he was, couldn't bring himself to say it.

-

“What do you remember, Iggy? About the accident day.” 

They were now on the medical/surgical floor, and they’d managed to book time in one of the baths. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but to Ignis it was heavenly. He lay in the warm water, his leg propped up to keep his surgical wound relatively dry. Prompto sat on a low stool at his side, ready to hand him toiletries and help with movement when necessary.

Ignis hummed. “Just that we were driving up to the lake, to secure the campsite early for the long weekend. Noctis had a State dinner so he was going to follow with Gladio two days later. I remember making it to the mountain pass.” He frowned as he tried to recall, then chuckled. “I remember arguing about music. If only that was my biggest problem now.”

“Anything else?” Prompto asked.

He shook his head. “The next thing I remember is being in the emergency room, but you weren’t there. The nurse said you’d gone out.”

“Hm. The music argument was a few minutes before the accident. And then you were awake for most of the next few hours as they got you all packed up and transported. It’s wild that you lost so much time.”

“Do you remember everything?” Ignis asked.

Prompto sighed. “Yep. Sort of. Like I was looking at my phone and then just...noise. So loud. The sound went on and on, and then everything just, stopped. I was so confused and cramped and surrounded by airbags. But then I looked over and you were like, shoved up against my shoulder, seat and all. And you weren’t moving. The truck driver was there, shouting, asking if everyone was okay, but I remember being too out of it to answer back at first. He ran back to use the radio and I tried to get your attention, but you didn’t answer. I checked your pulse and thank the gods, it was there. Then I looked for a way out. All the windows were fucked up but the windshield was still stuck. My door was jammed closed. So I climbed out the side window.”

He stopped then and his gaze went distant. Ignis sensed that he wanted to talk this out, but that perhaps it was difficult. He searched for an innocuous question. “Was there only one person in the truck?”

“Yeah, the guy was panicked. I felt bad for him but also later super pissed. He kept saying it wasn’t his fault, that the brakes gave out. At first I tried to calm him down, but then, when then ambulance was there and they were cutting you out of the car...man Ignis. Your screams. I’ll never forget.”

“If it helps, I don’t recall any of it. Perhaps I got the better end of the deal in that sense.”

Prompto fixed him with a dubious look. “Yeah, tell me that when you can stand up without having to yoga breathe through unspeakable pain.”

“It’s not so bad anymore. Until Torture Terry shows up of course.”

“Hey!” Prompto laughed. “Terry’s a good guy. It’s his job to make you move in horrible painful ways. For your health.”

Ignis snorted his doubt. Then there settled a heavy silence. In searching for something to say, Ignis’ mind wandered to late night whimpers and heavy breaths. It struck him then. “Prompto, are you having nightmares about the accident?”

Prompto sagged, almost as if relieved. “A few, yeah. But the weird thing is it’s not just at night. Sometimes I’ll catch a whiff of something and it’ll like, put me back there? Not like, seeing it, but like the way it felt. And in the hospital there’s a lot of that sort of smell. Blood or burnt hair or...I don’t even know.” He shrugged. “It sucks but I guess it’s all part of processing.”

“Hm. You know, there are trauma specialists available at no cost to all Crownsguard members. It doesn’t have to be a work related cause, either. It’s part of the benefits package.”

“Oh, yeah? Huh. I didn’t know that. Maybe I’ll check it out. Thanks Iggy.”

Somehow the suggestion didn’t seem enough to Ignis. Not when Prompto had done so much for him. “And of course, I’m happy to lend an ear as well, simply as a friend.”

A gentle sort of smile blossomed on Prompto’s face and he met Ignis’ eyes. “Thanks. You’ve always been a good listener.”

-

“We can hire a full time private aide on top of your morning and night in home care,” Noctis said. “The only thing is that there may be a gap in coverage as we go through the applicants. Gladio has people ready to do level two background checks on the top ten applications. So we’re looking at two weeks, minimum. Until then, we can all take shifts helping you out.”

It was an awkward conversation to have with his three closest friends in the room and two Crownsguard standing inside the door, plus another two outside of it. Until now, the spouse game had been just that, a fun little play act between the four of them and the hospital staff. The last thing he wanted was fodder for the rest of the military and citadel staff to poke fun at either he or Prompto.

The other issue was that he wasn’t sure how comfortable he felt when picturing Gladiolus or the Crown Prince helping him to a toilet or into a shower. Locker rooms and bathroom humor was one thing, but needing help for those functions was an entirely different sort of intimacy. Yet, they’d made this bed, so to speak. The hospital was writing up his discharge plan under the assumption that he didn’t live alone. There was nothing for it, Ignis thought, resigned.

But then, Prompto spoke up. “Look, honestly? If you’re not sick of me, I could just stay. I mean it’s okay to say no if you’d rather have the rotation, I promise I won’t be insulted, but the offer is there, and I’m happy to do it.”

Ignis could have kissed him, the angel. He kept his face as neutral as possible and feigned thought for a moment so as not to appear too eager. “If that is truly not an imposition, Prompto, it might be for the best. Not that I doubt your abilities to provide care,” he said, addressing the other two, “but Prompto is already familiar with what assistance I require.”

Both men were unable to completely hide their relief at being absolved of nursemaid duty, which tickled Ignis almost to laughter. The pain medications definitely interfered with his poker face.

“If that’s really what you both want…” Gladio said.

“Yeah,” Prompto replied confidently. “It’ll be a smoother transition I think.”

There was no possible way to thank this man, Ignis thought, but he was going to do his level best once this was all over.

-

“You know, I was absolutely  _ certain  _ that I’d have an easier time at home.” They hadn’t even been here three hours and already they’d run into issues with the wheelchair not fitting through the old door frames, a tricky rotation to get onto the toilet, and a complete lack of anything edible after a month of not being home. Not to mention the sparse bedding that Ignis kept was woefully inadequate for his comfort.

“No worries!” Prompto chirped. “I’ve already got a mental list going. Noct is sending a car in half an hour to take me shopping and so I can grab stuff from my place. Let’s sit down and get the essentials written down for tonight. And uh, let’s do takeout, just this once. I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get everything.”

It was beginning to be painfully obvious to Ignis that he was developing feelings for his friend and caregiver. Something for which he loathed himself, if he dwelt on it for any length of time, so he made a concerted effort to focus on other things. Like how his sofa was not nearly so comfortable as it ought to have been for the price he paid. 

Prompto managed to fashion a prop for his leg using his coffee table and throw pillows, and they placed “ottoman” on the list just as the car pulled up to take Prompto away. 

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“It’s only a few hours, Prompto.”

“I know, but that’s the longest you’ll have been alone since...the whole thing.”

“I assure you, I’ll be fine. I promise to phone if I need anything.”

With a few more assurances, Prompto finally left, and for the first time in over a month, Ignis was alone.

And it wasn’t nearly as relaxing as he’d hoped. In fact it was downright  _ boring. _

He resisted the urge to text Prompto with the juicy updates to the soap operas they both pretended to hate, worried it would cause undue stress to an already packed shopping trip. But he had to admit, they weren’t nearly as enjoyable without Prompto’s commentary and overacted reactions.

After several restless hours of daytime television, it was time for a dose of pain medication and the evening gameshow block. Just as the first was beginning, his phone buzzed.

Prompto: _ Two more stops then food _

Warmth bloomed through his chest. He found the update endearing, and energizing, to know it was almost over. He shot a message back:

Ignis:  _ You won’t believe who actually poisoned Julianna. _

Prompto:  _ D: I knew I was gonna miss that reveal _

Ignis:  _ I’ll fill you in amongst a sea of brand new pillows. I hope you bought one for yourself as well. _

Prompto:  _ Don’t worry I’m on it! _

Bolstered by the thought of Prompto coming home soon, he found himself taking the role of game show contestant, shouting out answers and grumbling at the real contestants’ foolish mistakes.

The second show was nearly over when his phone buzzed again.

Prompto:  _ Last stop took longer than I thought so I ordered delivery and I’m on my way! Gonna take a bit to unload tho _

His heart fluttered, much to his delight and dismay, and he smiled fondly. Not long after, Prompto, along with a very tired looking Crownsguard, burst into his apartment with armloads of merchandise. They unloaded everything into a pile behind the sofa, and the food came just as they finished the last load. The driver politely declined their invitation to stay for dinner, so they ate on new TV trays and Prompto regaled him with the highs and lows of his trip. Ignis, in turn, relayed the day’s developments in their soap operas. 

They finally fell quiet, both tired and full of greasy take out. Ignis had his head rested against the back of the sofa, and he rolled it slightly to look over at Prompto, who was similarly positioned. He decided that he could get used to this sort of domesticity, a surprising thought when he’d spent so long intentionally curating his own simple and quiet space, a perfect retreat from his days of people-filled political nonsense.

He stared a beat too long, for Prompto looked back at him, questioning. “Bathroom time?”

“Not yet. I…” He trailed off, considering how to word his question, when Prompto suddenly perked up.

“Oh! I almost forgot. I hope it’s okay, but I kinda got you a thing, hang on, let me find it.” And just like that, the moment was lost as Prompto sprung up to rummage amongst the bags. “Here it is! I saw it and, well, I had to.”

He handed him a wooden piece of mass marketed art. It had a pickle painted on it with the words  _ “I’m kind of a big dill” _ in looping script. It was horrible and perfect, and it made him chuckle. 

“I thought your kitchen walls could use a little sprucing up, ya know?” Prompto laughed now, sounding unsure.

“I love it, thank you Prompto,” Ignis said sincerely. The answering smile he got made their entire situation melt away. “Would you do the honors of hanging it? I believe there are thumbtacks in the second drawer.”

Watching as Prompto excitedly chattered away while positioning his new masterpiece just so, Ignis knew he was getting too deep into this fantasy of playing house, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

-

Nights were not nearly as peaceful as he’d imagined. While the absence of six hour vital sign checks, ringing phones from the nurse’s station, and coughing from nearby rooms was certainly welcome, his bed was less than ideal for his particular aches and pains.

The first two nights, neither of them slept much. Ignis found that shifting into a comfortable position without the luxury of adjustable head and feet was a challenge. Prompto worried so much about missing a call from Ignis that he wore a path between the sofa and the bedroom every half hour, simply to check on him.

The third night, they decided that Prompto sharing the bed made more sense. Although “decision” may have been a generous description. He’d finally just succumbed to exhaustion after helping Ignis reposition his aching leg and dropped down onto a spare pillow. They both got much better sleep after that, waking only when Prompto’s help was required.

Ignis felt like he was living a poorly written romance novel, full of overused tropes and contrived intimacy.

-

Sometime towards the end of the first week, Ignis started feeling poorly. His stomach was queasy and he couldn’t scrounge up much of an appetite. His skin felt chilled and sensitive, and his pain seemed to increase. Prompto hovered, concerned, asking if he should call the doctor, but Ignis chalked it up to a particularly taxing physical therapy session. In the evening, the home health aide came for turndown service and to count his medications as usual, and frowned as she took his vital signs. “Your temperature is elevated and your blood pressure is a little low. I’m going to ask the doc to order a set of labs for the morning, so expect a fasting blood draw in the morning, okay? I’m just going to tell your hubby to watch for some stuff.”

Ignis hated the word “hubby” almost as much as he hated blood draws.

Prompto was restless that night, and despite a heavy fatigue washing over him, Ignis couldn’t sleep. “You’re letting the cold air in,” he groused, shivering.

Prompto set his hand against his forehead and hissed. “You’re burning up, Igs. Lemme take your temp.”

A blur of worried noises, phone calls, and hurried packing later, Ignis found himself slumped against Prompto in the back of a crown issued SUV, on his way back to the bloody hospital.

-

“Did you pack my shaving kit?” Ignis asked. His mind felt cloudy and he was weak.

“Yeah, Iggy. And your electric toothbrush. We’ve talked about this.” There was a definite tone of impatience or fatigue in Prompto’s voice. Probably both.

“What are we waiting for, again?”

“You gotta get the rest of the bag of antibiotics in before your procedure.”

That seemed utterly ridiculous to Ignis. He’d been here  _ quite _ long enough, thank you. They had discharged him for Astrals’ sake! What did he need more fluids for? What procedure? Why couldn’t he just go home? He plucked at the tape on his arm, wincing as it pulled at his hairs. This damnable tubing was keeping him tethered to the hospital bed and he was absolutely not staying.

A hand laid against his forearm and another pried his own hand away, holding it firm. “Ignis. You have to leave that in. You have an infection and you will die if you don’t get antibiotics,” Prompto told him firmly. He looked angry. For some reason, that made Ignis angry. How dare he?

“Nonsense,” he said, pulling against Prompto’s grip. “I’m leaving. It’s freezing in here and I want to go back  _ home  _ and sleep in our bed. I’ve had  _ enough  _ of hospitals to last a lifetime.”

Prompto’s eyes widened and then softened, but he kept his grip on Ignis’ arms. “Iggy, please. I need you to trust me, okay? We just need to get this bag in and then the doctor said you’ll get a PICC line so you can go home and get the rest of your treatments there. But you have to cooperate until then. Can you do that? For me?” 

His eyes were such deep pools of blue, so earnest. How could Ignis say no?

Ignis sighed, resigned to his fate. Carefully, he flopped back onto the bed and closed his eyes. “Fine. But only because you gave me puppy eyes, which is hardly fair.” 

Cautiously, the grip around his arms slackened, and then disappeared. But then, a hand came up to gently stroke his hair and Prompto whispered, “Thanks, Iggy. It’s gonna be okay.”

Ignis found it suddenly impossible to stay awake.

-

It was another day and a half until Ignis was deemed healthy enough to be discharged, and only then because Noctis had found Coral.

Coral was a registered nurse practitioner who often treated pop idols and other celebrities, and who was known among the elite for her wealth of knowledge and her discretion.

Ignis couldn’t stand her.

She treated Prompto as an annoyance, and would often shoo him away in order to “do things properly.” Her hand was less than gentle, though that alone didn’t trouble him much. However it drove Prompto absolutely mad.

The tipping point came early, on day one to be exact, when she wouldn’t allow Ignis an afternoon Ebony. She told him that excessive caffeine would slow his bone healing, and simply refused to bring him one.

Her cooking was bland at best and - Ignis insisted - intentionally revolting at worst. The bone broth jellies that Prompto had spent days preparing were deemed “too rich,” and instead he was given the same rotation of miso soup and steamed meats and vegetables.

Prompto took to leaving for large portions of the day in order to avoid arguments and extra stress on Ignis, and at night they whispered a countdown to his antibiotic course completing so they could fire her in spectacular fashion.

The sixth day (four to go. Maybe we’ll change the code and call security when she shows up), Ignis cracked and asked Prompto to sneak him an Ebony at night.

“I can’t. She took it all out of the fridge on the first day. So I replaced it. And she took that. So I bought some more and hid it behind the rice in the pantry and she found that and took it too.”

Ignis actually gaped. “My gods. This woman is pure evil. I’m not striving for an idol’s body, I’m trying to recover a sense of normalcy after trauma!” He didn’t realize he’d raised his voice until he finished speaking, and he flushed with embarrassment. “Apologies.”

“It’s okay, dude. Four days left. Maybe we can put in an application for the next space launch in her name.”

Ignis was undeniably in love with Prompto.

-

The antibiotics and Coral were officially done (her contract was politely, diplomatically, and anticlimactically paid off by Noctis), and Prompto came home from his monthly in-service with two celebratory gifts. The first was delightfully familiar in shape and weight, and Ignis ripped the paper apart while uttering blessings in Prompto’s name. It was evening, but he didn’t care. He cracked open the can and let the smooth deep flavor of Ebony wash over his tongue.

“You’re a godssend, Prompto Argentum,” he said in complete honesty.

Prompto laughed and flushed a pretty pink, freckles standing out starkly against his blush. “That’s just the caffeine addiction talking,” he deflected. “Open the other one! I’m actually really excited about it.”

Ignis set aside his Ebony and plucked at the paper of the larger package. It was heavy, but soft. His delicate opening seemed to agitate Prompto, who grumbled and then tore the paper open for him. Inside was a luxury brand foam mattress topper. “Oh,” he said.

Prompto scrambled to explain. “When you were back in the hospital I realized that their beds are foam, and not firm like your bed is. Since you’re still having trouble sleeping on your bad side, I thought this might help. I know it’s not super exciting but…”

Ignis was at a loss. This was a truly thoughtful gift, not to mention expensive. He knew Prompto was still on his year two military salary, which was not a large sum by any means. He reached out and brought him in for an awkward sofa hug, and Prompto reciprocated readily but carefully. It struck Ignis that they’d shared many embraces over the past six weeks, but only in order to help Ignis move or rotate. Not once had either of them initiated a hug borne solely of affection. He made a mental note to remedy that, and relaxed further into it. “Thank you. I’m quite anxious to try it out.”

Prompto pulled back, beaming, then sprung from the sofa. “Actually yeah! I need to set it up right away so it has enough time to puff up. It’s sheet changing day anyway.”

“Coral did them before she left.”

Prompto made a face. “I’ll change ‘em anyway. Get the bad vibes off there.”

Ignis laughed and reached for his crutches. He’d keep Prompto company while he worked.

-

It was bliss. He could finally lie on his left side without pain. It felt as though his spine was in alignment for the first time. The sheets were fresh, and Prompto had carefully helped prop his good leg off of his bad with expert pillow placement. 

When he came to bed, Prompto rolled to face him. “Well hello there,” he said.

“Hello yourself.”

“You have the dopiest smile on your face right now,” he said, mirth in his voice.

“I feel like a new man. This is exquisitely comfortable, I really can’t thank you enough, Prompto.”

“Hey I won’t lie, your bed was way too firm for me before, so this works out in my favor too.”

Ignis chuckled, and then they lay quietly facing each other. The soft glow of Prompto’s bedside lamp was the only lighting in the room. Ignis studied his face. Gone were the lines of fatigue from the early days after the accident. No more were his eyes puffy and pink. He had a healthy glow about him, and he looked - well -  _ happy _ .

Truth be told, Ignis could now get along just fine without overnight help. He could get himself to the toilet easily enough, the bath with minimal assistance, and if he attempted it, could probably even put together a simple meal or two in a pinch. Prompto must have known this, yet he never hinted at wanting to go home and sleep in his own bed.

“Prompto,” Ignis began quietly, before he could stop himself. “Can I ask...that is to say, I’ve been meaning to ask…” He’d rehearsed a hundred ways to ask without it sounding like an accusation, and yet he faltered every time.

“Hm?” Prompto gently prompted.

“I...What made you stay? With me, I mean. Not just here, but even in the beginning. You never left my side. It can’t have been easy.”

Prompto took a deep breath and looked away, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. For a moment he didn’t answer, but then he released his breath and looked at Ignis again. “I’ve thought about that a lot actually, and I’m not really sure what the answer is? But, I mean, I stayed because I wanted to, you know? If you’re worried about me feeling obligated, that isn’t it. It’s just...you’re my friend, and I wanted to help. I didn’t...I didn’t want you to be alone, you know? And like...I dunno. I’m not exactly full up on people in my house. It can get kinda quiet. Really, oppressively, quiet. So, I just, I could, and I wanted to, so I did.”

His words were a comfort, certainly. But he had to know, “Did Noct, ah, pay you to stay?” he asked cautiously, worried that he would insult him.

But Prompto laughed. “Technically, kinda, but only because I was already sticking around. He shifted my job code to “Special Detail,” or something so that I could get base non-hazardous pay and still stay with you. Which, like, sometimes it’s good to be BFFs with your boss.”

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed, smiling gently. “I’m glad to hear it. I know I’ve said it before, but thank you, a thousand times and more, for remaining by my side through this. You’ve been an immeasurable comfort. Without you, I’m unsure how well I’d have taken to idle recovery.”

“Oh you’d have been a total bear,” Prompto grinned. “The worst kind of asshole patient. A nightmare.”

Ignis laughed and reached out to shove him at the shoulder, which had Prompto laughing as well. “It’s true. You tame my inner grouchy old man.”

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty great guy when you’re not acting forty years older than you are,” Prompto teased, and then, to Ignis’ utter surprise he caught Ignis’ hand with his own and twined their fingers together, resting them on the bed between them. There was only a slight flicker of uncertainty in his eyes before he smiled crookedly, cheeks darkening.

Ignis gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and smiled back. He could feel the heat on his own face as well.

“I’m, uh. I like being fake-married to you. It’s been fun.”

“Likewise,” Ignis said, lost in the constellations of Prompto’s skin.

“We should totally do it again sometime.”

Ignis hummed thoughtfully. “As it happens, I’m free tomorrow.”

Prompto huffed a laugh and said, “It’s a date!” then twisted to turn off his lamp without breaking their contact. In the darkness, he scooted closer. Ignis felt the lightest brush of lips against his own, then a puff of warm air across his face as Prompto backed away just a little. “Night Iggy. Sleep well,” he said.

“Goodnight, Prompto.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my lovely editor @SongOfMarbule, who had to deal with this wreck of a fic that I spewed out in 72 hours on my phone, after listening to What Sarah Said by Death Cab on repeat and crying over my doggo. Yeah. My dog. 
> 
> I miss you every day, Stella.
> 
> _And it came to me then_  
>  that every plan  
> is a tiny prayer to Father Time 
> 
> _As I stared at my shoes_  
>  in the ICU  
> that reeked of piss and 409 


End file.
